Mine
by Baby Denim Eyes
Summary: He was the best thing that's ever been hers. AU.


**Hello there, my name is **_**Four Rights and a Square,**_** and I'm your authoress for this story, **_**Mine.**_

**I love this story. It's one of my favorites. It's kind of sad, but if you put the pieces together it's a love story, as all Quick fics should be. : )**

**Take care of yourselves, read, review, and just enjoy the story. Please, go to my profile to follow me on Tumblr. I blog about everything Avengers, Glee, Sherlock, you name it, I like it.**

**Disclaimer: The story **_**Mine**_** is written solely by the fanfiction authoress **_**Four Rights and a Square. **_**She is the owner of the plotline, and many other things of which she refuses to say because she does not wish to continue typing this disclaimer. However, the authoress does not own any of the **_**Glee **_**characters- she simply loves roleplaying Ryan Murphy's creations.**

* * *

**MINE: ONESHOT-**

The day was August 17th, 2019, a normal day in the heart of the United States. People with their umbrellas roamed on the streets of Lima, Ohio, working their hours at gas stations or at general stores. Department stores were doing fairly well, if you forget about the recent robberies and missing hostages. Grocery stores were doing their usual business, and some even were having decent sales. Even the students at William McKinley High School were going about their usual schedules, heading to classes and some, ditching.

But unfortunately, it wasn't a normal day for everyone.

In a small home just sitting on the outskirts of Lima, a young woman stands, staring out her window at the dark skies and the pouring rain hitting the sidewalk. Her blonde hair is messy and uncombed, eyes the color of liquid butterscotch are searching the dark pavement roads glittering with raindrops. If you look carefully enough, you can see those butterscotch orbs flashing with pain, fighting to keep the water below the surface.

She is the one who had gotten the message before anyone else, even his family.

Twenty-five is too young for someone to die.

It had been a week since she had received the phone call that would change her life forever. It had been a week since she tried to forget the words processing in her brain as the paramedic spoke gently into her ear. It had been a week since she remembered what she had been doing the second the phone rang.

She had been cooking dinner for her boyfriend of four years to celebrate his new promotion. He had called her and told her the news; she of course, was thrilled that he finally got the reward he deserved after working endlessly and tirelessly for several months. He then told her he was going out for drinks with some of his work colleagues, and wouldn't be back until the sun set in the west when she looked out her window. She had teased him gently about being all cheesy and romantic, and he had quickly retorted with a comment about how he would be cheesy and romantic the rest of his life if it meant he could have her.

Even though he was on the other side of the phone, she had blushed furiously. "I've got to go, babe," His deep voice was echoing on the other side of the phone. "I love you."

She'd given a tiny giggle. "I love you too."

"I mean it." She could almost hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "I seriously, one hundred percent completely, irrevocably, truly, deeply, adoringly, wholeheartedly love you."

"I'll see you when you get home," She promised, giving another giggle. Her ears heard the sound of his beautiful laughter, and then click! The call was over.

She hadn't known it would be the last time she would speak to him forever. If she had, she would have said something more meaningful. She loved him, but she would have had a whole speech laid out. Just so he could remember her.

Now, he was gone.

Since she had gotten the news that he had died on the scene, she hadn't cried. Not once. His mother had bawled her eyes out numerous times in front of her, and his sister simply stared at the walls; lost in the mix between reality and fantasy. When Rachel heard, she came over in true Rachel Barbra Berry-Hudson fashion and attempted to comfort her, but she remained silent.

Rachel left without ever uttering a word.

Nobody ever attempted to try and talk to her after that. Kurt and Blaine tried, but bless their hearts, nobody could find a way to break the iron shell she had so ceremoniously built around her heart after _her._ Only he had, with a simple hammer and nail, splitting the cocoon right down the middle.

The calling hours were today.

"Quinnie?" Judy Fabray sticks her head into the living room, her bright blue eyes watching her daughter in maternal concern. "It's almost time, sweetie."

"I know." Her voice is barely a whisper, and she can't fathom how weak and raspy her voice sounds. She knows she looks dreadful, but she doesn't want anything to change. But now it all had to, since he was gone.

"Come," Her mother takes her hand and leads her to one of the chairs where her beautiful black dress lays. It is lacy and frilly around the sleeves, and it ends just by her calves. The item of clothing looks so foreign to Quinn, she honestly hasn't worn black since… since… never.

"He wouldn't have wanted me to wear black for his funeral," She mumbles softly, fingering the fabric without looking at Judy, "Blue. It was always blue."

Sighing, Judy just gives her head a quick shake and leaves the room, leaving her daughter to dress on her own.

* * *

The funeral home looks dark and gloomy, like one of those creepy castles in Looney Toons or Scooby Doo that you just know is going to cause trouble for Bugs Bunny or Scooby and the gang.

She knows all eyes were on her from the minute she steps inside. The cold air brushes against her skin, causing her to shiver subconsciously. Her hair blows as she follows her mother under the air conditioner on the ceiling and into the cold room.

The room is different than she had imagined.

It is dim, with thick, complicated patterned carpet and low lighting. Chairs lined up in rows face the front, a long aisle down the middle. People stand in clusters all around the room, some turning towards her to give her a sad, sympathetic look while others avoid her completely. Immediately, the smell of daisies fills the room. Her eyes begin to water with tears; he had once said his favorite flower was her favorite flower. But the Ice Queen regains her control, using some of her remaining pride and will to suck the water back in.

Almost as quickly as she has entered, she fights the urge to turn and run out. Everyone is giving her sympathetic looks with their dead eyes, and she just _knows_ it is all an act for her, one of the people who was really affected by his death.

An object in her line of sight causes her to step away from her mother's shadow and head in its direction. The casket is open, and as she gets closer, she can see the still face of the man she loves. Her teeth find her bottom lip and she bites down hard to keep from crying, but it does nothing to help the throbbing ache in her heart and the blood from seeping out of her lip. She uses her free hand to cover her mouth to keep an unattractive sob from coming out, her eyes watering darkly. But no, she doesn't cry. Because the Head Bitch In Charge does not cry. Without another warning, she throws herself at the casket, her fingers searching for some kind of warmth from the cold body as she grasps his hand.

He won't wake up.

* * *

She's in the middle of thinking about how much she loved him when something brings her out of her thoughts. "Who are you?" Quinn turns her head slowly to see a little girl sitting in one of the many chairs lined up throughout the room. She looks to be about seven or eight years old, with a small frame and delicate-looking features. Her shiny, black shoes dangle innocently off the ground. In her right hand she holds a black pen and in the other, a piece of lined notebook paper.

Quinn's eyes drift back slowly to his lifeless, handsome form. "I loved him."

The little girl nodded. Her eyes made their way over to the body, running up and down with sadness in them. "Did he love you?" She asked, her voice demanding, but gentle.

_Just outside of the room that held their daughter stand two figures. _

"_Did you love me?" She asks, closing her eyes to avoid hearing the truth, because honestly, nobody's ever loved her. Not her mom, her dad, or Finn. Not her sister, not Ms. Sylvester, or her friends. Nobody._

_His answer surprises her. "Yes," His voice is unnaturally soft, "Especially now."_

* * *

Honestly, she finds herself answering. "I don't know."

Eyes the color of butterscotch flash at her. "I think you're lying." She pauses, staring at her shoes in thought, and then looks back up at Quinn. "Why did you love him?"

She finds herself looking at the ceiling, fighting to keep the tears from spilling.

"In high school, I was making cupcakes for my club's bake sale. He came in and started talking to me _so_ sweetly, and we ended up having a food fight and looking like a mess." Her eyes were really brimming with unshed tears now, but once again she fought them again. "I knew then that he wasn't about to toss me to the curb, like everybody else in my life. Not like my mom, my dad, or my sister." She shook her head, the motion threatening the tears to fall. "They all treated me like I was a loser. But he didn't."

The girl's eyes flash once again, making her look intimidating for someone of her size. She was half-heartedly glaring at Quinn, her arms folded across her chest and her brows furrowed together, "You didn't answer my question. Why did you love him?"

Quinn looked at her and then at Puck, and she strokes his hair. "Because every single day of my life, he was a pain in the ass. At school, outside of school, around my friends, around my family… around everyone," She pauses, and looks back at the girl. "But he was _my_ pain in the ass."

Suddenly, she just can't fight it anymore. Large floods of water begin to pour out of her eyes, and she's bawling, and there's nobody else in the room but this little girl. Her tears land all over her soft blue dress, but she's too overwhelmed to care. Her hands cover her eyes to avoid the puffiness anyone might see. _Stop crying, Quinn. Get over yourself,_ her conscience says, but she can't. She never will.

"God, I loved him!" She howls, her voice beginning to go raw, "Why can't I let anyone know that?"

Ever so tentatively, the little girl stands up and takes the few steps towards her. Quinn doesn't notice until she feels small arms wrap around her in a hug, and even then, she just continues crying and sniffling and sobbing and gasping.

"Shh," The child coos, using her body and arms to gently rock the blonde back and forth. "It's okay, it's okay."

"No it's not," Quinn blubbers, sniffling loudly. "It'll never be okay!" A fresh stream of tears falls down her cheeks, rolling like waves in an ocean.

She hates showing weakness. That was why Coach Sylvester always made her head cheerleader. But it was different now. She was out of high school, she had finished college, she wanted to-

"_Beth, I hear you callin', but I can't come home right now. Me and the boys are playin', and we just can't find a sound, just a few more hours, and I'll be right home to you, I think I hear them callin', oh, Beth, what can I do?"_

The girl's voice is beautiful, just like her mother had probably taught her how to make it sound. "Shh, it's okay. This song always makes me feel better when I'm feeling sad. It'll make you feel better, I promise."

She only sobs harder, and the girl continues to rock her back and forth. "Shh, it's gonna be okay."

* * *

After the calling hours are over, people begin to file out of the room with the exception of three. One is the caretaker, who simply starts stacking the chairs and gently putting the flowers to the side. The second is obviously the man in the casket, who can't leave the room until his funeral the next morning. The last is the girl, who lingers around the flowers as she waits for a moment.

"Sweetie?" Her mother, a beautiful woman with long dark hair and brown eyes is standing in the doorway. "I'll be outside, okay?"

The little girl nods, turning her head back towards the casket. After a moment's pause, the caretaker notices her. "Sorry, I'll give you a minute." He leaves, walking into another room.

It's quiet, just the way Beth likes it. She can see his face from her position a few feet away from the casket. Slowly but steadily, she takes steps towards him. When she reaches it, she looks down.

His face is rough and ragged, the way she had always pictured it. There is coarseness to his hair, and he has long, dark eyelashes. If she had ever gotten a chance to speak with him, she would have taken it immediately without a single thought. She notices his closed eyelids, the way his hands look tough but fool everyone with the smoothness of them. His lips are exactly like hers, and she sees the faint grace of a smile before she begins to talk. She can't see his eyes' color, but she knows from what people tell her that her eyes are all his.

"Hi." Her voice comes out as squeaky, not the way she had intended it. She frowns at herself, clears her throat, and begins again. "Hi, Puck."

She continues. "I just wanna to let you know that when you wake up as a skeleton, there will be this piece of paper in there with you. I just wanted to tell you so you don't freak out, okay?"

He says nothing.

"I'm gonna put it by your arm, okay? It'll be tucked in like me at bedtime 'cause I don't want it to get ruined by rain and worms and stuff." Beth cautiously places the slip of paper she had written on half under his arm.

"Well, I gotta go, Mama's waiting for me, and I guess you need some sleep 'cause you're gonna be partying up all night with those angels and Jesus and Moses and Abraham and God. Can you make sure there's a fruit punch bowl there? I think it'll be funny if Jesus gets fruit punch on his face." She grins, then turns and walks away, not looking back once.

She stops at the doorway. Pausing and looking around to see if anyone would notice her, she looks back at him. Tears are beginning their descent, and Beth manages a small smile at Puck with a tiny whisper. "Bye, Daddy."

She walks away.

* * *

_Dear Daddy,_

_I know you never got to meet me 'cause something with the adoption agency (Mama helped me with the big words and punctuation) got screwed up so I thought I would talk to you here. _

_I'm Beth. "Your little girl" as Mama always told me you called me in my mommy's belly. I'm sorry that mean man crashed his car into yours and took you away from us. I prayed for that man and you and Aunt Sarah and Nana and Mama and my principal and that policeman who came to my house and Ms. Fanny Brice and Ms. Audrey Hepburn and Ms. Barbra Streisand and Tony and Maria and Aunt Rachel and the mom I was told I would never meet. I told God he'd better treat you right otherwise when I come up there I will make him have a time out. _

_I love you. My teacher taught me the sign language for I love you, but I don't remember it. She taught us the whole abc thing, and I thought it was cool. _

_Well (that's a deep subject according to Aunt Rachel) I have to go 'cause Mama wants me to get some sleep for the burying of you tomorrow. I don't like sleeping. When I close my eyes, I see scary things. I see that man and his car and you are not driving, it's me. But then I think of happy things, like that picture I found in Mama's dresser. It was a picture of a young you (what was that ugly thing on your head?) and me as a baby, only I was in the arms of a pretty girl. She looks like me. We looked like a family._

_So, Mama told me I was named after the song "Beth," by a band named KISS. It's a pretty song. I know all the words. _

"_Beth, I hear you callin', but I can't come home right now. Me and the boys are playin', and we just can't find a sound, just a few more hours, and I'll be right home to you, I think I hear them callin', oh, Beth, what can I do?" _

_Daddy, I hear you calling, but I can't come home right now. Me and the boys are playin', and we just can't find a sound, just a few more hours, and I'll be right home to you. I think I hear you callin', oh, Daddy, what can I do?_

_I will be right home to you someday. As long as there's cupcakes, I will be there. _

_I promise._

_Love, _

_Beth Corcoran (Fabray-Puckerman) _

_P.S- My real mommy loves you. A lot._

* * *

**Thanks for reading! (If you're not crying then I haven't done my job...)**


End file.
